The New Recruit
by White Knight2
Summary: *YAOI* Vampires. They don't exist and you know it...right? Then why did I drink from him? Why has everything changed since he came? Who is he? Who am I? Chapter 7 now up! PLEASE R/R! I ADORE reviews!!!
1. The Hostage

The Hostage  
  
How pathetic, thought Dragonslayer captain Dilandau Albatou, sitting in his room. What's the point of hostages? They-re useless and they take up space! Too much space. I don't care if Folken says I need new soldiers, did it have to be HIM??  
  
He slowly recalled the events that had occurred earlier that day.  
  
*FLASHBACK*  
  
"ATTACK!!!" yelled Dilandau, "FIRE THE CANNONS!"  
  
The Dragonslayers had been given the privilege of trying out Folken's new invention; a powerful cannon that could be fired from Guymelefs. They had decided to test on a merchant ship that had passed. Also, Folken had told Dilandau that ever since earlier that year, when a Dragonslayer named Cameron had died, he needed a new soldier.  
  
So after disabling the ship, Dalet was ordered to go in and take a hostage. He did. However, Dilandau, being the person that he is, took it a bit too far, and practically destroyed the ship instead of simply doing what he was supposed to.  
  
After that, they waited. Folken told Dilandau to calm down, and to wait for Dalet to return with the hostage.  
  
After about half an hour or so, Dalet did return. From a distance, it looked as though he was carrying a bundle of rags instead of a person. But as they moved closer, they saw that it was a person, wrapped in a blanket.  
  
"He won't take it off," explained Dalet.  
  
Folken took the boy from Dalet's arms and carried him to the room specially kept empty for him. He put him down on the bed.  
  
For a while the boy didn't move. Dalet walked over and took the hood of the blanket and tried to pull it off, but the boy shifted violently and Dalet move back, but he did not let go of the blanket. Instead, he sat down on the bed in front of the boy and tried to coax it off with soft words.  
  
Dilandau snorted. He knew this wouldn't work.  
  
He was right, the boy didn't even move.  
  
Dilandau was getting impatient, and Dalet was getting worried. The boy's fingers were cut, and it was obvious by his shivering that he was in shock, and needed medical attention.  
  
"Come on," whispered Dalet softly, his fingers still on the hood of the blanket, "We won't bite, promise."  
  
But despite his calmness, his anxiety was worsening, the boy hadn't moved in ten minutes, was he even conscious? He had to be alive for his grip on the blanket was still quite firm.  
  
"Come on…please?" said Dalet, a little more firmly this time.  
  
The boy shifted slightly, but didn't move the blanket.  
  
Just then, Dalet's eyes opened wide as he saw a thick, dark drop of blood fall out from under the blanket onto the bed. Dalet looked up and saw several stains on the blanket, obviously blood stains.  
  
"TAKE IT OFF ALREADY! YOUR INJURED!!!" he screamed, as he tore the blanket forcefully from the boy's body.  
  
Dalet and the others in the room (minus Folken and Dilandau) stared in shock at what sat before them.  
  
A young, blond boy was on the bed, looking terrified. His clothes were torn and his entire body was covered in cuts. In fact, only one of his eyes could be seen, as the other one was covered in a thick layer of blood.  
  
Dalet picked the blanket up from the floor where it had fallen and gently wrapped it around the boy's shoulders.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered.  
  
Just then, Folken strode forward. Passing Dalet, he picked the boy up off the bed, who soon fainted from the loss of blood.  
  
"Leave him to me," said Folken to Dalet, "We'll set a course for the heart of Zaibach. There he can be tended properly."  
  
He carried the boy out of the room. 


	2. The Visit

The Visit  
  
The flight to Zaibach's capital had taken most of the afternoon, and Dilandau was surprised the boy survived.  
  
Once there, Folken had handed him over to the main hospitals nurses, and Dilandau knew no more.  
  
1 *END FLASHBACK*  
  
Ugh, he thought, what's the point in keeping him if he's sick?  
  
The next morning, Dilandau decided to pay the captive a visit. He didn't know why, but something pulled him to do it.  
  
After wandering aimlessly through the halls for a while, he stopped one of the Nurses.  
  
"Tell me," he began, "Where can I find the boy that was brought in here last night?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "But until he wakes, I can't allow any visitors. He needs all the rest he can get during the transfusion, especially if he is to become a soldier."  
  
The look she gave Dilandau after that comment was one of calmness, though Dilandau could tell that she knew what happened to the captive was his fault, and she wasn't thrilled about Dilandau wanting to be near him.  
  
"I will inform Lord Folken when alright for him to be visited," she said as she walked away.  
  
Dilandau turned back and headed for the Vione, which was 'parked' just outside the hospital.  
  
* * *  
  
Later that afternoon – around three, Dilandau estimated – Folken came to tell him that the nurses had said it was alright for him to see the boy, as the other Dragonslayers were already on their way, but not to ask the boy anything, as he could not talk.  
  
"What?" Dilandau wasn't to happy about hearing that, "First he's injured and we have to wait for him to recover, now you tell me that he can't even talk??? FOLKEN, what is the meaning of this???"  
  
Folken stared calmly down at the enraged teenager, and walked away.  
  
"I thought you wanted to see him," he called.  
  
Pulling on some boots, he caught up to Folken.  
  
"It is only temporary," said Folken.  
  
"What is?" asked Dilandau.  
  
"His not being able to talk," Folken replied, "It is only temporary, as the scars on his throat have affected his voice box. Therefore, as soon as the scars heal, he will have his voice back."  
  
"That had better not take too long," muttered Dilandau, and hurried up to catch the other Slayers, who were already inside the hospital.  
  
* * *  
  
Once caught up, Dilandau walked with the others towards the room which Dalet had told him was where the boy was. Dilandau stopped in front of the door and turned around;  
  
"Well," he began, "Has Folken told you already that you can't talk to him and expect a response?"  
  
"Yes sir," said Dalet, "We are also aware that we cannot stay in here past sundown, that's when the visiting time ends."  
  
"What?" Dilandau screwed his face up and stared at Dalet in surprise, "Who made a stupid rule like that?"  
  
"The nurses, sir," Dalet replied.  
  
"Oh, whatever," said Dilandau, turning towards the door, "Let's go in while we can."  
  
He turned the doorknob and stepped inside.  
  
Moving closer to the bed, the Slayers saw the pale figure lying on the bed, eyes closed, seemingly asleep. His scars were now wrapped in white, slightly bloodstained bandages, including a large eyepatch covering his right eye. A white blanket was pulled up to his shoulders, and he looked like he was a bit better.  
  
"I thought he was supposed to be awake," said Dilandau quietly.  
  
At that the boy stirred, and opened his active eye. He tilted his head to look at his visitors.  
  
Dalet, being the one who had brought him in, felt that he had to say something. Moving close to the edge of the bed, he looked down onto the boy's face and smiled. Not knowing exactly what to say, he tried to think of something positive;  
  
"Feeling a bit better, huh?" he asked. The boy nodded, slowly, but surely.  
  
Seeing this display, the other Slayers took to comforting words and gestures.  
  
Dilandau watched them, without saying a word, or even moving. Finally, he stepped forward.  
  
"I'd like to be left alone with him for a while," he declared loudly, "Go back to the ship. You can eat dinner."  
  
The Slayers looked at him, obviously disapointed and wondering why he wanted to be alone with this boy.  
  
"Now!" he added. They started to leave.  
  
Dalet however, was reluctant to leave the already injured boy with the same one that had caused him all this pain, and stopped when he got to the door.  
  
"Don't trust me, Dalet?" asked Dilandau with a slight sneer.  
  
Although he wanted to, Dalet decided not to say no and left, slowly, shutting the door behind him softly.  
  
After seeing the door close, Dilandau turned to face the figure on the bed, who tilted his head, obviously disapointed that his cheerful visitors had left him alone with this teenager, who didn't seem all that nice.  
  
For a while, Dilandau simply stared at the pale face before him, saying, and doing nothing. The pale face stared back.  
  
"Why of all people," Dilandau finally began, "did the one taken in to be my new soldier have to be you?"  
  
Not being able to speak, the young blond said nothing, though even if he could have spoken, he probably wouldn't have said anything.  
  
Dilandau sighed.  
  
"Rest while you can," he said with a smirk, then turned and left. The young boy watched him go, beginning to feel lonely once again. 


	3. The Recovery

The Recovery  
  
Dalet continued to visit the sick boy for days after that. Weeks even. And the boy seemed to really be enjoying his company.  
  
Dalet would sit for hours at the bedside, speaking, explaining life on the Vione, stroking his the boy's hair or holding his hand in a comforting way. And it never mattered to him that he never got a response.  
  
Even the nurses got to know Dalet because he would spend so much time in the hospital. The truth was, Dalet felt slightly responsible for the young hostage, though he couldn't figure out why. Perhaps it was just pity.  
  
That didn't mean that the other Dragonslayers didn't come to see him though! The boy got many visits. Even Folken came to see him once or twice, though he never stayed long, and spent more time talking about the boy's recovery with the nurses than with the boy himself.  
  
In truth, the boy was recovering quite well, no slower than what was predicted for him, but no faster either.  
  
Then came the day, during one of Dalet's many visits, that the boy was able to gather enough strength to sit up, though he still had some trouble moving his limbs.  
  
"It won't be too much longer until he will be ready to move to your ship," said one of the nurses to Dalet.  
  
"That's good," replied Dalet, "I'm sure Lord Dilandau is looking forward to setting off again, he really hasn't been too happy about being rooted here for so long."  
  
The nurse laughed bitterly. Dalet knew that she would much rather have the poor boy live here than send off again with someone like Dilandau.  
  
The nurse set down a platter of food that she had been carrying, and left.  
  
Dalet supposed the food was for the boy, so he picked up the tray and set it on the captive's lap.  
  
The boy picked up a spoon from the tray, and, dipping it into a bowl of soup set out for him, set the spoon to his lips.  
  
Dalet watched. He wasn't jealous, he wasn't hungry at all, but he was happy. Happy that the boy could finally move and eat by himself, and not have to rely on that strange I.V. tube to eat for him.  
  
Just then though, the boy stopped eating. He set down his spoon, and, not being able to lift the heavy bowl, gently pushed it in his direction.  
  
Dalet looked at the boy in wonder, then he understood.  
  
"No," he said, "that food is for you."  
  
The boy continued to look at Dalet, palms outstreched. Then, he lay back down on his pillow, and ate no more.  
  
"Are you sure you're full?" asked Dalet, concerned, "You didn't eat very much."  
  
The boy nodded and closed his eyes. Well, one eye, as far as Dalet could see, as the other one was still covered with the thick eyepatch.  
  
Dalet stood up. Stroking the boy's head softly (he had already fallen asleep), he turned and left quietly.  
  
He met Guimel just outside the door.  
  
"If you're going to go in," Dalet began, "you'll have to be very quiet, he just went to sleep."  
  
Guimel laughed quietly.  
  
"He sure seems to sleep a lot, doesn't he?" he replied.  
  
"Of course," said Dalet, "He has to regain his strength and energy."  
  
Guimel's face turned hard.  
  
"Definently," he said, "Especially if he is to be under Lord Dilandau's command."  
  
Dalet nodded thoughtfully. He then turned and began to walk down the hall.  
  
Guimel followed.  
  
"I'll visit him tomorrow, when he's awake. Or rather, I'll visit him with you, as you always seem to catch him when he's awake!"  
  
Dalet laughed.  
  
* * *  
  
One afternoon about a week later, Dalet was once again on his way to visit the injured boy in the hospital. However, when he opened the door to the room, it was empty. Not just plain empty though, it had been cleaned up and everything!  
  
Dalet ran quickly back to the Vione, looking for Folken. He gave orders. If anyone would know where the boy was, it would be Folken.  
  
About halfway to Folken's room, he stopped short. There were two nurses coming his way.  
  
"Excuse me," began Dalet, but they didn't see him.  
  
Dalet kept running, the boy had to be on the ship. Then it hit him.  
  
Of course! he thought. Cameron's room!  
  
He turned a corner and ran towards the former Dragonslayer's room. Once there, breathing hard, he opened the door.  
  
There he was, just as Dalet suspected, sleeping soundly, still wrapped in bandages.  
  
How cute he looks! Thought Dalet, and how peaceful!  
  
He turned, and left, listening to the soft sound of the boy's breath, and the roar of the engines as the ship took off once again. 


	4. The Past

The Past  
  
Dilandau finished the glass of Vino he was drinking and fell down onto his bed. He put his arms behind his head and began to think. There's something familiar about that brat that Dalet picked up, he thought. He reminds me of someone.  
  
*FLASHBACK*  
  
A young Dilandau Albatou walked through the dark alleyway of the Zaibach village. Although Emperor Dornkirk had brought tons of new technology to Zaibach, there were still some very poor villages, such as this one. Dilandau turned a corner and proceeded out onto another. He passed by many of the small houses and then past a slightly bigger one, with a sign above the door that read 'Orphanage'. He was nearly past the slightly larger building when he heard a strange noise coming from within. He stopped to listen. They were the sounds of a woman screaming. Suddenly, the door opened and a young boy, no older than Dilandau, was literally thrown out, and the door was slammed behind him. The small boy stood up and rubbed his tearfilled eyes. He had shoulder length, brown hair and he was wearing a small brown shirt with dirty shorts. "Are you allright?" asked Dilandau. The boy, not having noticed Dilandau before, looked at him in surprise. Dilandau walked up to him. "I'm Dilandau Albatou from the Vione," he said, "What's your name?" "Dalet" replied the boy. "Dalet what?" asked Dilandau, "You must have a last name." "Dalet. I don't know," he replied, "Nothing I guess. Sorry." "Oh," said Dilandau, "Why was that old lady yelling at you?" At that question, tears formed again in Dalet's eyes. Dilandau reached up and rubbed one gingerly with his hand. "Well," started Dalet, "It all started a three days ago with the doctor, when he came to visit. He comes once a year to give all us kids a check-up. Everyone was fine. except me. He said I had a serious disease, I can't remember what it's called, but he said I wouldn't live much longer." "Continue," said Dilandau, for Dalet had suddenly stopped. "Anyways" began Dalet again, "In this town, we have a limited amount of food, and since the Keeper (that's what we call her anyway) says I'm gonna die soon, she stopped feeding me so as to save food. I haven't eaten for two and a half days now, and I'm so hungry." "But why did she kick you out?" asked Dilandau, still as inquisitive as ever. "Because I was so hungry, that just now I asked her if I could have a little bit of something to eat, and she got really mad." Dalet's eyes foamed with water again. "THAT'S HORRIBLE!!!!" cried Dilandau, now full of rage. Dalet nodded silently. Just then, a solution presented itself to Dilandau. "I know!" he exclaimed, "Come with me!" He took Dalet by the hand and ran down the street with him, towards the Vione.  
  
Once there, Dilandau turned to Dalet. "I live here," he stated, "With this really smart guy named Folken. Here you can have some food, and I'm sure he can cure you as well!" "Can I stay here?" asked Dalet. "Yeah, probably," said Dilandau. He pulled Dalet forward. Dilandau knocked on Folken's door. It opened. At first, Folken said nothing. His eyes went from Dilandau's face to Dalet's. "You are.?" he asked. "Dalet," the small brunette replied, "Dilandau said you could cure me, and I could live here."  
  
*END FLASHBACK*  
  
Indeed Folken had cured Dalet, for the illness he had had wasn't really all that life-threatening. Now Dalet was living here, as he had for the past 9 years, with Dilandau. And then he left me, thought Dilandau. He used to come and see me all the time. And then rank split us up. I became his commander and now he doesn't love me anymore. Or at least, not the way he used to. Just then, there came a soft knock at the door. Dilandau stood up. "Come in," he said swiftly. The door opened, and Dalet stepped in. "Well, speak of the devil," muttered Dilandau. Dalet ignored the comment. "Sir, I have a message from Lord Folken," he said calmly. "What is it now?" Dilandau asked, slightly annoyed. "He says the boy will be ready to work in a month." A MONTH! cried Dilandau's mind, though the expression on his face didn't change. 


	5. The Voice

THE VOICE  
  
"Good Morning!" piped Dalet, as he entered the injured boy's room one morning, though he was immediately quiet afterwards. The small, bandaged figure was still asleep. Only Dalet would have thought this was strange, for, as he was the one who always brought the boy his breakfast, he knew that the captive was always awake early. But not this morning.  
You worry too much, his mind told him. Everyone sleeps in from time to time.  
Another question burned in his mind as well.  
Should I wake him? Why not, said his head. It's not like he has anything to do at all today that will prevent him from sleeping.  
Dalet moved close to the edge of the bed, and gently prodded the boy's side with his forefingers.  
Obviously not in a deep sleep, the boy stirred and opened his eyes. He smiled, as he always did when Dalet came to him.  
Taking the bowl and spoon from Dalet's hands and laying them on his lap, he began to eat.  
Dalet smiled, admiring his progress, but suddenly his eyes widened. The boy had stopped moving. His eyes were wide with fear.  
He can't be choking, thought Dalet frantically, for no sound was coming from his mouth.  
Dalet was starting to get really nervous.  
"H-hey kid, are you all right?" he stammered. Instead of responding, the boy dropped the spoon and keeled over headfirst. Dalet caught him, but nearly dropped him again in surprise. IMPOSSIBLE! His mind screamed. The once colourless bandages were now quickly soaking with blood again, and more was coming.  
Dalet cried out for help. None came at first, but after a second desperate yell he could hear the sound of feet coming quickly towards the room. Armed Dragonslayers entered, most likely expecting some sort of sneak-attack. Though what they saw was not as bad, perhaps it frightened them worse; a positively horrified Dalet holding a pale, ghostly-looking boy whose once healed cuts were covered in blood for a second time.  
Miguel dropped down onto his knees beside Dalet.  
"Did he have a seizure?" he demanded.  
"It doesn't matter!" yelled Guimel, "Let's get him to Lord Folken!"  
"Quickly!" yelled Gatty after them, "Dalet, you carry him. I'll go tell Folken beforehand!"  
The other 'Slayers nodded as Gatty ran out of the room and down the hall. The others followed quickly.  
With a few long strides, the Dragonslayers had reached Folken's room. The door burst open and Folken stepped out. Without a word, he took the unconscious boy from Dalet's arms for a second time, and strode away, shutting the door behind him. No one spoke.  
***  
" I think you should wash your hands, Dalet," said Gatty as the 'Slayers headed back to their rooms, "There's some blood on them."  
Dalet looked at his hands. Gatty was right, they were stained.  
"You're right," he muttered, as he turned towards his room. That was something he really liked about the 'Slayers rooms. Each had a small but clean washroom in it. However, if they wanted to use a shower they had to go to the washroom made especially for merchants who stopped on the ship.  
Lost in thought, Dalet let the cool water of the tap flow over his hands for a moment before reaching for the soap. The bloodstains washed off his hands surprisingly quickly.  
He left the small bathroom and sat down on the bed, thus trying to think about something remotely cheerful, but a crueler thought hit him like a bullet;  
What if the boy died?  
How horrible, Dalet. Why should anyone have to die in so much pain?  
Oh please, said his mind. You're a soldier, he's a soldier. If one of you dies, it'll probably be in pain.  
But so far, fate had been nicer than that. Nine years ago, thought Dalet, I would died, but I was saved. Now I just hope that fate can do the same for him.  
***  
Dilandau was in his room when he heard the commotion.  
What the hell is going on? He wondered.  
He opened the door and stepped out only to see Gatty running down the hall in a frantic hurry.  
"Gatty," he yelled, "What are you doing??"  
"Something's happened to the boy sir!" Gatty yelled, running towards Dilandau, "He may have had a seizure! We're taking him to Lord Folken, he's bleeding all over!"  
He hurried off.  
Dilandau scowled. He was really starting to get tired of this boy and his stupid injuries. He turned and went back to his room where he pulled his armor jacket over his shoulders, then turned again and hurried off to Folken's room.  
  
Once there, he stormed into the room. He didn't get very far though, for Folken blocked his way.  
"Where is he?" he demanded, "I'm going to kill him!"  
"No, Dilandau, you are not," replied Folken calmly, "I need to talk to you."  
"Dilandau scowled even more, "About…?"he growled.  
Folken cleared his throat.  
"As you may have suspected," he began, "This boy needs another blood transfer. However, there is no time to back to the capital… and no need. You see, not only is it not as bad as last time, but I also recently discovered that there is one person on this ship with his blood type," He paused for a moment, "You." He said calmly.  
Dilandau said nothing. His expression didn't change, but his mind was racing. He wanted to say 'no', but something kept him from doing it. He couldn't say 'yes' either though.  
"I'll think about it," he said finally.  
Dilandau turned and left, completely ignoring the faces of the 'Slayers in the hall, waiting eagerly for an explanation of some sort..  
***  
Dilandau guessed it was around midnight. He wandered on anyway. He knew exactly where his feet were taking him, but he didn't care. His decision-to-be still burned in his mind, what should he do? What would his answer be?  
He found himself standing in front of the door to the medical wing. He opened the door and stepped inside. His footsteps echoed through the room.  
Next thing he knew, he was standing in front of Folken's operating table. On it lay once again the pale, thin, small figure that everyone but him seemed to care about. Once again, his bandages seemed to have been changed.  
Dilandau lifted his hand slowly and laid it on the boy's cheek. It wasn't as cold as he thought it would be.  
He absentmindedly drew a line around the boy's face, ending with a finger on his lips. Again he was strongly reminded of Dalet.  
Dilandau sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the figure up towards him, so that their cheeks were touching. How could he refuse life to someone like this? He couldn't, of course, that was the answer…  
***  
Dilandau opened his eyes. Impossible, he thought. How did get back into my own room?  
He looked at his arm. There was a bandage on it. It began to dawn on him, he had fallen asleep in the medical room and Folken had simply taken the blood he needed and brought him back here.  
  
There was a sudden knock on the door.  
"Come in," muttered Dilandau, not bothering to get out of bed. The door opened and Dalet entered the room.  
"You again," said Dilandau suspiciously, "What do you want this time?"  
Dalet looked slightly taken aback.  
"I was just wondering how you were, Lord," he said shakily, "I didn't mean to wake you up."  
"You didn't," replied Dilandau, "I'm just a little surprised that someone is actually wondering how I am and not how that brat is."  
"He's not a brat," said Dalet quite firmly.  
"Well, if he's not a useless brat, then what is he? And why hasn't he been at training?" sneered Dilandau, sporting his usual smirk and rolling over onto his elbow to face Dalet from where he lay.  
Dalet flushed.  
"Well, sir," he began, "Personally… I think he's kinda cute."  
Dalet expected Dilandau to laugh, but he didn't. He didn't even raise an eyebrow. In fact, Dilandau stood up and walked over to Dalet, and put his arms around his waist. Dalet blushed a deep shade of red, which was strange, for Dalet often embarrassed himself in front of others, and never before had a tinge of red appeared in his cheeks.  
Using Dalet's surprise to his advantage, Dilandau lifted his right hand and put it on the back of Dalet's head, pulling him closer and laying his chin on the brunette's head. He could smell shampoo.  
Time seemed to pass slowly as they stood there. Then Dilandau spoke, in response to Dalet's earlier statement;  
"You know Dalet," he said softly, "I think the same thing about you. I always have."  
"I know," said Dalet, in barely more than a whisper.  
Dilandau sighed.  
"Why can't things be like they were before?" he said, "Why did you leave?"  
"I was scared," said Dalet, just as quietly as before, "Scared that something would happen to us if anyone else but him found out."  
"But him..?" inquired Dilandau, "Who knew?"  
Dalet pulled away, but Dilandau held onto his wrists gently.  
"You know who I'm talking about, Dilandau!" said Dalet, mildly angry, "Folken. He saw us, remember? He caught us kissing.. that night. I was afraid he would tell someone else." Dalet lowered his eyes.  
"But he forgot after a while, remember?" replied Dilandau, lifting Dalet's head to meet his gaze, "Why didn't you come back?"  
Dalet tried to look down again but Dilandau held his chin up. There was guilt in Dalet's eyes.  
"I didn't know you still wanted me," he said quietly, "I thought it was all over. That and… I found somebody else."  
Dilandau wasn't surprised.  
"Who?" he asked.  
"I - I can't tell," said Dalet nervously.  
"Oh come on," replied Dilandau, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."  
Dalet moved forward and whispered in Dilandau's ear: "Miguel"  
"I might have known," said Dilandau almost passively, "You two always seemed so close, I was starting to wonder. Does he know about us?"  
"No," said Dalet.  
"Good," said Dilandau almost happily this time, "Then he won't be suspecting anything like this!"  
In one quick, sweeping movement, he had pulled Dalet into a kiss. For a moment Dalet didn't do anything, it certainly wasn't unpleasant, but then he pushed himself away and started towards the door.  
"It's not like that anymore," he said before running out.  
Dilandau watched him leave from where he stood.  
***  
Dalet had been extremely twitchy for the rest of the day, desperately trying to avoid Dilandau, and jumping whenever someone came up behind him. It was around dinner when he walked into the medical wing to bring the 'brat' his dinner. Once inside, he turned to close the door…  
"Hello Dalet,"  
Dalet jumped so far that the bowl of soup on the tray he was carrying fell off and smashed on the floor. Dalet turned to see who was talking, but the only person in the room besides him was the boy, who had a look of fright on his face.  
"I'm so sorry!" he cried, "I should have waited 'till you were over here. Let me help you!"  
He tried to get out of bed but couldn't manage on his own.  
"I'm sorry," he said again, "There are some cloths over there though!" He pointed to a cupboard by the wall.  
Dalet walked over to the cupboard and drew out a cloth. He began to clean up the mess and pick up the pieces of the bowl he dropped.  
After that, he went over to the boy's bed and sat down. He stared at the pale face in front of him.  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
"Shesta," said the boy, "I've wanted to tell you that for a long time..." 


	6. The Encounter

THE ENCOUNTER  
  
  
For some reason, it seemed to Dalet that the weeks passed quicker now that the boy could talk. Perhaps it was the new   
  
companionship. Shesta seemed to listen to everything Dalet said eagerly and without regret, unlike some of the other 'Slayers   
  
who would often mock him if he started getting sentimental. And then there was Viole, who wouldn't talk while you talked,   
  
but you never knew whether he was really listening or not either.  
  
  
There was however, a valid reason for this. Viole had used to be an average, good-natured person. Little did Shesta know  
  
exactly who he was replacing. Earlier that year, 5 months ago to be exact, a Dragonslayer named Cameron had died on the  
  
battlefield. As far as everyone knew, or rather, guessed, Cameron had been Viole's lover. Whoever he had been, Viole had  
  
hardly said a word since if he could avoid it. He even avoided the other Dragonslayers, though he was almost never seen  
  
outside the company of Daemon, a rather muscular Dragonslayer who had been Cameron's best friend since before they   
  
came to the Vione. Daemon would sit for long hours next to Viole in the common room, until Viole decided to go to bed.   
  
Viole would often wrap his arms around Daemon's neck while Daemon stroked his long hair in a more comforting than   
  
romantic way. After all, back home Daemon had a girlfriend who he hoped to one day return to.  
  
  
For some unknown reason, Viole had started spending long hours standing outside the entrance to Shesta's room. He never  
  
went in, nor did Shesta know he was there, he just was. Sometimes Dalet would try and talk to him, but it was no use.   
  
Viole hardly ever answered. Sometimes he'd leave after being questioned, but even Dilandau had stopped looking at him   
  
when he walked past. In fact, Dilandau didn't pay much attention to Shesta at all, many had noted. They decided perhaps  
  
the whole transfer thing was still bothering him.   
  
  
After approximately three weeks, Shesta was able to walk properly, and would spend a lot of the day around the Vione,  
  
with Dalet by his side after training. His bandages were left on ("Just in case," Folken had said) but he wore clothes over   
  
them. Wherever they went, people would comment how cute Shesta looked when he smiled, which he did often now. It was  
  
a pleasant thing to see. No one, however, said anything about Cameron.  
  
  
Shesta liked to read, and spent lots of time in Folken's library, which was of course, open to all provided they don't tear it   
  
apart. Because of this, the only people who really went in were, Shesta, Gatty, Dalet, sometimes Miguel or Guimel and   
  
Dilandau if he needed any books on Guymelefs. Shesta's level of reading however, was limited, and it was obvious that he   
  
had stopped schooling at a fairly young age, for he kept asking Dalet for explanations on long of difficult words, which  
  
Dalet was of course happy to provide.  
  
  
One evening, the two were just on their way to Shesta's room, for he was tired, when a winded Gatty came running up.  
  
  
"Lord...Dilandau..." he began, then paused for a moment to catch his breath, "Wants to talk to you." he said to Shesta, who  
  
started to look very worried. Dalet looked a bit uncomfortable as well.  
  
  
"Good luck," murmured Gatty good-naturedly before walking briskly past them to his own room.  
  
"I'll have to say the same," said Dalet in a more somber voice than Gatty. He patted Shesta on the back and turned towards  
  
Miguel's room.  
  
~  
  
Shesta stared down the empty hallway for a moment, without noticing the footsteps coming his way.  
  
  
"Aren't you wanted in Dilandau's room?" said a voice.  
  
  
Shesta snapped out of his daze and looked up into the face of long haired Dragonslayer with somber eyes and an almost sad  
  
expression on his face.  
  
  
"Yes, so I've been told," replied Shesta quietly. The other Dragonslayer said nothing, but brushed Shesta's cheek lightly with  
  
the back of his fingers before moving on. Shesta moved on as well. He wasn't sure of the way, but it was easy enough to find  
  
anyway, and the door was clearly labelled: Dilandau Albatou, and underneath, Captain.  
  
  
Shesta rapped the door slightly. "Enter," answered his commander's voice.  
  
  
Shesta entered nervously, shutting the door behind him an standing then, looking at the shadowy figure sitting upon the bed.  
  
He had not seen Dilandau up close for two months, and couldn't recall exactly what he looked like. Shesta gasped quietly   
  
when he stood up, both at his beauty and the fact that he also looked slightly frightening, after all, Shesta only reached   
  
Dilandau shoulders. Dilandau stared hard at Shesta's face, who's right eye was still covered with a dressing. Almost gently,  
  
Dilandau reached for it, snapped the bandages around it and pulled it off. At first, Shesta's eyes went out of focus but he was   
  
able to see a moment later.  
  
  
Dilandau began to remove the other bandages from his face and neck. They slipped and fell to the floor. He then started with  
  
the ones on his hands, moving upwards on Shesta's arm until he reached his shoulder, then stopped. Dilandau moved his   
  
hands and began to undo Shesta's shirt. Shesta yelped and put his hand across his chest, while taking a step backwards.  
  
Dilandau looked annoyed.  
  
  
"Fine then," he snapped, "Do it yourself!"   
  
  
He turned and walked off to what appeared to be a bathroom in one of the corners of his room. Shesta walked over to what   
  
he hoped was the darkest corner of the room and began to undress, meanwhile pulling off the bandages. Just as he was   
  
tying up his shirt Dilandau walked back out of the bathroom and over to a rather large closet in the corner next to it. From the  
  
closet he pulled two swords. One was sheathed and looked very new, the other was slightly older looking, as though it had  
  
been used and not washed.  
  
  
Dilandau tossed the older sword to Shesta who caught it but stumbled at the weight. He managed to catch himself fast   
  
enough however to see Dilandau pull a strange face.  
  
  
"I'm going to test your strength," he said suddenly, unsheathing his sword, "Have you ever used a sword before?"  
  
  
Shesta shook his head.  
  
  
"I didn't think so," replied Dilandau, "After all, we got you off a merchant ship." He then took a few steps until he and Shesta  
  
were about 10 meters apart. "Charge me," he said flatly.  
  
  
Shesta wouldn't have done it for fear of hurting him if it hadn't been obvious that Dilandau was far too advance to actually get  
  
hurt by it. He charged, but his attack still lacked stamina. He wasn't a fighter. Dilandau noticed and didn't seem to take it   
  
well. "Do you really expect to be a Dragonslayer with that kind of attitude??" he demanded angrily. To his surprise, Shesta  
  
shook his head. "You don't want to?" asked Dilandau, almost mocking him, "Maybe we should just send you back to those  
  
merchants then, how about that?"  
  
  
Just then, something happened that surprised even Dilandau. Shesta looked up for a moment, then dropped the sword, flung   
  
himself into Dilandau's arms and burst into tears. Dilandau was stunned. He didn't like the sudden idea of one of his   
  
Dragonslayers throwing themselves at him, but he didn't let go of Shesta either. He almost unconsciously wrapped his arms  
  
around Shesta as well.  
  
  
"No," Shesta cried into Dilandau's shoulder, "Don't send me back...please." His voice was that of a plea of desperation, a call  
  
for help. Dilandau stared at him for a moment, then, in one sweeping movement, picked Shesta up like a child, carried him  
  
over to the bed and sat down with Shesta accross his lap. He caressed Shesta gently, his head still resting on Dilandau's   
  
shoulder.  
  
  
"Tell me," he said quietly, "What's so bad about that place."  
  
"I... can't say," replied Shesta meekly, "I don't want to say."  
  
"Why not?" asked Dilandau again.  
  
  
Shesta said nothing, but clutched at the back of Dilandau's shirt almost desperately. And for once Dilandau wasn't persistent  
  
in getting an answer.  
  
  
"Stay here," murmured Dilandau into Shesta's hair. He laid Shesta down on the bed and walked away, going once again into   
  
the bathroom. Soon after Shesta heard the sound of rushing water coming from it, though he wasn't really listening. He was  
  
more or less admiring the comfort of the mattress, if not entranced by the shiny, burgundy-coloured blanket upon it.   
  
  
About ten minutes later, Dilandau appeared again. Walking over, he took Shesta by the arm, not quite as gently as he had   
  
held him earlier, and pulled him to his feet.  
  
  
"Come," he whispered, "I have something for you." Still holding the pale boy by the wrist, Dilandau led him towards the   
  
bathroom. Shesta gasped as he stepped inside. The room was huge. It was white mostly, and very nicely polished. Just then,   
  
Shesta noticed a very large bathtub in one corner. It was full and steaming. Shesta looked at Dilandau.  
  
  
"For me?" he asked, pointing at himself.  
  
Dilandau nodded. "Go on," he whispered, "I thought you could use a bath. It's very relaxing."  
  
  
Shesta walked over to the side of the bath and stared. He plainly couldn't understand his luck, or why Dilandau had done this  
  
for him. Could this really be the same harsh Dilandau that Dalet had told him about? Shesta decided it would be better if he  
  
didn't ask too many questions and began to undo his shirt. Just then, he blushed and looked at Dilandau, who sighed heavily.  
  
  
"Fine," he said, throwing his arms slightly into the air before turning and leaving the room.  
  
  
Quickly, in case Dilandau returned, Shesta undressed again and stepped into the bathrub. Ouch, he thought. Dilandau sure   
  
likes his water hot, but he lay down anyway. After a moment, the water went from hot to warm and it became very   
  
comfortable. Shesta closed his eyes and tried not to think too much about anything, except Dilandau, who kept coming to his  
  
mind. He picked up a bar of soap from the side of the tub and began to wash himself. Dilandau had put out soap and   
  
shampoo, not his own though, giving up his bath was enough for him.  
  
  
About half an hour later, Dilandau walked in again, carrying Shesta's nightshirt and a pair of his underwear. He had obviously   
  
been to Shesta's room. He picked up Shesta's other clothing.  
  
  
"How long have you been wearing these for?" he asked, looking at them with disgust, "You really should get them washed,  
  
you know. They're filthy. But come, it's late. You should be getting back to your own room." Dilandau picked up a towel from  
  
the counter and held out his hand to Shesta, who took it. Dilandau pulled him up out of the water. Shesta blushed again and  
  
yanked the towel from Dilandau, covering himself as best he could. Dilandau snorted;  
  
"Geez," he said, "You'd think I'd never seen another naked boy before. What's your problem?" Shesta's response was yet   
  
another blush, much deeper than any before it. Dilandau grinned and then, without warning, grabbed Shesta around the waist  
  
and pulled him into his chest. Shesta yelped and dropped the towel. Dilandau laughed and let him go.  
  
  
"You're fun," he said after a moment, now leaning against the wall, watching Shesta dry himself, "Has anyone ever told you  
  
that?" Shesta shook his head. Dilandau looked at him for a moment, then picked up the nightshirt and tossed it to Shesta, who  
  
caught it. Dilandau's face suddenly turned grave. "Meet me outside when you're done. I have something I need to talk to you  
  
about, tonight."  
  
  
Shesta finished quickly and left the bathroom. He sat down on Dilandau's bed and looked around; Dilandau wasn't there.  
  
Only then, did Shesta realize just how tired he was. Feeling a bit awkward about it not being his own bed, he lay down on one  
  
of the pillows and brought his knees up to his chest. In a few moments he was asleep.  
  
~  
  
Dilandau walked in the room a few minutes. The first he saw was of of course, the sleeping boy on his bed. For the moment,   
  
he didn't really care. Already in his night clothes, he walked over to the other side of the bed, pulled down the covers, then lay  
  
down as well. He curled an arm quietly around Shesta and pulled him close once again. He deserves this sleep, he thought,  
  
before closing his eyes as well... 


	7. The Dream

THE DREAM  
  
  
Black. Everything was black as far as the eye could see. Or at least, as far as Dilandau's eyes could see. He wondered for a moment where he was and then he began to   
  
walk. He didn't know where he was going, if anywhere, but he tried. As he walked many stars began to appear around, as though he were in the sky. It was beautiful,   
  
stunning. After a few minutes of walking he stopped. He could a pale light in front of him, like an orb.  
  
  
Something was up ahead. No, someone.  
  
  
"Hello?" he called. The figure didn't seem to hear him. It did however, seem to get closer, or larger. Yes, larger, it was turning into the figure of a human. A boy, Dilandau   
  
noted. A boy who... who looked just like Shesta. Except that this Shesta was robed in white. Long robes of pearly white lined with jewels, beautiful jewels and silk. He looked  
  
like a god.  
  
  
But wait, thought Dilandau. He seemed to be tied to something. A star. No, an obviously religious design of long boards in the shape of a star. The boy's head hung low, as  
  
though he was asleep, or worse, unconscious. Dilandau studied him for a moment. Yes, he was obviously tied to this..thing. Tight ropes wound his body like one tied to a  
  
stake before being burned. But the illusion (or so Dilandau supposed thought) was not yet complete. Another object appeared right in front of the boy. An arrow? No, it was  
  
getting bigger. Dilandau waited, when suddenly, it stopped, and he gasped. A harpoon. A giant metal arrow pointed directly at the boy's chest.  
  
  
"Hey!" Dilandau yelled at the top of his lungs, "Wake up, quick!" He was desperate, the boy looked too much like Shesta for this to be safe, "Please, wake up! Can you   
  
hear me?" Dilandau stopped. The illusion was finally becoming complete. A tall, silent figure had appeared behind the harpoon. Wrapped in dark, thick, yet silky robes of  
  
purple and black he looked at the bound figure. Dilandau fell to his knees. It was HIM!  
  
  
Determined not to let that be true, he let out a cry, "WHO ARE YOU?" he pleaded. The tall figure did not turn. Instead, the other boy made a reaction. He lifted his head   
  
slightly and looked into the eyes of the dark one, who turned to Dilandau. Dilandau shuddered.  
  
  
"You wish to see him live, don't you?" asked the menacing figure behind the arrow. No, thought Dilandau, for it was indeed his voice.  
  
"Yes," he answered.  
  
The dark one laughed, "Oh really?" he responded, "Do you know what he will do to you if he lives?"   
  
  
At this question, the prisoner on the star raised his head in an attempt to look the enemy in the eye. His lips moved, he was going to speak;  
  
"I...no...," was all he could manage, but it was enough for the Dark Lord. "SILENCE!" he yelled, turning to the boy viciously.  
  
Suddenly, quicker than Dilandau's eyes could see, it happened. The arrow, or whatever it was went off and hit the boy square in the chest and they dissapeared.  
  
  
"NO!" cried Dilandau, falling to his knees, tears in his eyes, which had turned a dark burgundy-colour. He lowered his head and wept. He felt something touch the back of  
  
his neck. A feather? Yes, he was surrounded by white, falling feathers. Van? he thought. No, it couldn't be. The feathers started to gather around him. Beautiful, they were  
  
indeed, soft and white, whiter than snow. He caught one as it fell, it landed gently in his hand. He let it go. He then felt a hand under his chin lifting his head. The Dark Lord or  
  
whatever he was had appeared in front of Dilandau. His fingers were under Dilandau's chin, holding his head and looking in his eyes.  
  
  
"Do you know what he will do to you if he lives?" the shadowy figure asked again.  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore," said Dilandau, "You killed him."  
  
"It would take more than that to kill him," said the figure, with a strange gleam in his eye, "He is a god."  
  
"A god?"  
  
The figure let go of Dilandau. The dream faded. A piercing scream filled the air.  
  
~  
  
In his bed Dilandau jumped. He looked over into the face of a horrified Shesta.  
  
"Lord d-Dilandau.." he stuttered, "I didn't mean.. I'm sorry...Forgive me for falling asleep, sir! I didn't mean to I swear!"   
  
Shesta had hung his head and bowed right there, kneeling on the bed, stuttering apologies.  
  
Despite the dream he had just had, Dilandau laughed. He lifted Shesta's head in his hands and looked at him in the eyes.  
  
"Shesta," he said, "If I was mad at you, then the moment I had seen you here, I would yanked you up by the back of the neck and thrown you out of the room. Did I do that?"  
  
Shesta shook his head. "No," he murmured.  
  
"Well then," said Dilandau almost cheerfully, "Now that that's settled I think we should get some more sleep." His look turned stern. "There's something very important that  
  
I still need to talk to you about in the morning." He turned over and fell asleep again, this time, without dreams that he could remember...  
  
***  
  
  
Gomen. I know this chapter is kinda short, heh heh. It was meant to be just the dream, but that was way to short by itself so I decided to lengthen it a bit. ; ) 


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